Dancer ANNABEL LANE has another passion besides choreography.
It's chess.
She's got lots of chess mates and can whack them all by concentrated dedication. One high-domed egghead who rather fancied himself got checkmated in six moves. When asked what it felt like to be annihilated he replied, "Dreamy, my dear—what a brain she's got to go with her measurements."
Annabel's measurements are all curvy.
You can say that about all kinds of things, like the latest detergent that washes frighteningly white—
“Here, watch it, birdbrain, you look like a ghost.” You can say that the ride from Marble Arch to Haywards Heath was pretty good, except that it was a pity about the traffic. You can say that Joe’s Pull-Up for hungry tramps Is pretty good, except watch out for his chips. You can say mum’s pretty good and the job’s pretty good.
And you can really say that SHEILA CAMPBELL is pretty good. Sheila is pretty and good. She’s eighteen, she’s delightful, she’s Scottish, and this Is her first time before the camera as a Highland pin-up. She’s got a thing about pop music—who hasn’t? —and a thing about going to Majorca for holidays. What we like uncommonly well about her, however, is that she thinks men are just super-duper great.
We’re probably not that good.
If you must know (said tall, willowy VANDA VANE-DOTSON who prefers riding a country horse to taking a town taxi) I’m on the wrong side and trying hard to ge* to the right side before it’s too late.
In some circumstances (said Vanda, who is our idea of a rural-loving debutante) either side can be the right side. It just so happens that the circumstances on this occasion were all bound up with the fact that there was a rather hefty-looking quadruped on my side and he had all the characteristics of a belligerent bull.
Therefore (said Vanda, who drives a whizz of a sports car with verve and application) I knew there was only one side of the fence I wanted to be and that was the other side. I didn’t actually fall flat on my face but I can’t say these tight mini-dresses give a girl maximum composure when she’s in the kind of hurry I was.
Now that winter is here the girls are going in for all kinds of bizarre garments.
A bizarre garment is a garment designed to keep a girl looking kooky and feeling warm. Fashions are at their kookiest at the moment, as you know, what with feather boars and hats like the cowboy’s wear.
Amongst the kookiest girls it's the silly season.
SUSAN DOUGLAS, who is among the most elegant and well-dressed models we know, is also among those who go in for long pants—these are indeed very kooky but marvellously warm.
You can't take umbrage at the dears when they make life so exciting for us. You can always look forward to the time when the silly season is over and they've exchanged their feather boars for parasols and their long pants for bars of chocolate.
Willy Carmuckle, known locally as the village half-pint—he's only five feet four—looked around to see if there was a tractor in sight. He thought if he could find one and drive it around the cornfield in ever-increasing circles, it would take his mind off the distracting beauty of PAMELA GASTELL.
"You couldn't manage a tractor even if you found one," said his friend, who was more blase about beauty. (He worked in a lingerie factory).
"I could manage it better than I could manage Miss Gastell, she’s too blooming pom-pom for me," said Willy.
"What's pom-pom?"
"She makes my ears go ping," said Willy.
That's the trouble with only being five feet four. Pamela is five feet five and lives in Brighton. During sunny week-ends she rides over the Downs on her horse, and sometimes she gets off her horse and looks all picturesque, as she does here.
Would you like to live in Sussex and meet up occasionally with Pamela?
As a matter of fact, said Bighead, l’d like to live in Sussex and meet up frequently with her.
So would we.
It was one of those fiesta nights on the Mediterranean island when they had a competition to find out who had the best legs. Freddie Pinkerton was there and entered on the strength of the local wine. They disqualified him as soon as he rolled his trousers up.
“Geddoudavit!” they yelled in Italian and French.
“Well, I dunno,” said Freddie, “they liked it when I did it at Blackpool.” But they took it more seriously in the Med., and they restricted it to girls only. The winner was SANDRA MILLWARD and here she is.
Freddie took one look, and as his glasses cracked he said, “Okay, I quit, I know when I’m licked.”
Not just a pretty face is BARBARA MARTIN from Pudsey in Yorkshire. She's married to a feller who calls her his wonder girl.
In addition to keeping the house lovely to come home to, Barbara is a fine cook, an advertising and fashion model, a Yoga enthusiast and a dab hand at painting.
And if that's not enough she has a curvy figure measuring 37-24-36 and can fill a bikini perfectly.
Where's Tonka?
Oh, somewhere in the heart of undiscovered waters a thousand miles from the Great Barrier Reef. Nothing to do with Tonga, just a place on its own. They don't make anything there except coconut-fibre sarongs, and they aren't half itchy.
And they certainly don't make mini-skirted dollies like ANN CAROL KEYES. Ann is so photogenic, what with her dishy suspenders and all, that masculine eyeballs get sort of struck rigid. Mint-flavoured custard is the only cure. Tastes awful but what other antidote is there?
Ann, a young and healthy picture of glamour, has no impossible ambitions. She's just looking forward to having a husband, home and babies in time. Lovely.
One day a family moved into the empty house across the street from Percy, and from then on Percy spent his time peeping through his letter-box to see what he could see of the young lady there.
Her name was CRYSTALL DAWSON, and as far as Percy was concerned, she was the cutest-looking girl who’d ever lived opposite, and after five minutes he was nuts about her. Then his mother caught up with him and yanked him into the back room.
“ Aw, mum,” said Percy (who was thirteen and growing fast), “ be a sport, mum. Lemme have another dekko, mum.”
“ Percy,” said his mum, “ I have enough trouble with your father’s weakness for a pretty face. I’m not having the same trouble with you.”
Oblivious of her young admirer opposite, Crystall was getting the house in order and waiting for the rest of her clothes to arrive.
Crystall’s a typist, but would rather be a fashion model. Percy, a deadhead on careers, just thought she was a smasher.
Crystall is 5' 4", and measures 36"-24"-36". Figures to Percy just mean homework. Homework? There’s a clue there somewhere!
Tea is served and even coffee-drinkers can’t resist this!
Finally, of course, there's the afternoon must for every girl, irrespective of age or measurements — a nice cuppa.
Three lumps, please.
In the stockroom of a Manchester cotton mill the girl in charge was STEPHANIE PETERS, and blokes kept coming in to ask her to check what was in the upper bays so that they could see what she looked like in her mini on a ladder.
Such blokes were always milling around in the stockroom and Stevie, as they call her, always seemed to be up the ladder.
So, she thought she'd leave her job and get one in London. Going up and down that ladder was killing her. In London she met some photographers and became a model. Now they're all milling around her in the big city.
Who are?
A bevy of blokes with a long ladder.
SHIRLEY EPPS is a girl who never gets that one-degree-under feeling. She feels lively and looks lovely all year round. Unlike us—we rarely feel lively and never look lovely. Most times we feel horrible and look even worse.
We must admit, however, that meeting a girl like Shirley never fails to make us feel on top of the world. It’s that supersonic brightness she radiates.
At the moment, Shirley’s working hard as a waitress and saving hard for the fare to Corsica, where she intends to live and work for a year or so. Those lucky Corsicans!
Air stewardess KIM SCOTT is what you call a flying swinger. She's up, up and away week after week from London Airport, and all her passengers consider her the most swinging stewardess they ever clapped their international eyes on.
Kim lives in Middlesex and in between her flights comes down to earth to enjoy the peace and quiet of life.
She says that's what a girl needs to do after flying all over the place, otherwise you can fall apart.
Kim with her long legs is still a devotee of the mini and if you can think of anything which would make her look lovelier when she's out shopping for antiques, keep it to yourself. It's bound to be something she couldn't wear without collecting a crowd.
Keeping the fireside looking a lot more attractive than if she weren’t there is dark-eyed JEAN BELVIN.
The usual fireside adornment, apart from the tongs and the toasting fork, is a fat cat or a plump Pekinese. While we’re not prepared to make an issue of this with animal-lovers, the preference most people would have would favour Jean, and the cat would have to make do inside the coal-scuttle.
Removal of the plump Pekinese might be a little more difficult. You might even get bitten. But if you want to make room for an adornment as pretty as Jean muzzle the pup before you grab him.
In case you didn’t know, Jean is a receptionist who looks extremely chic in frilly black nylon. We know there's no connection, but we just thought we’d mention it. Ambition is to be a model pin-up!
Jean figures that her measurements of 36"-24"-36" keep her looking slick—and they don't give her any worry about what not to eat.
When DAWN GRAYSON realises her ambition of doing some modelling overseas, we do hope she’ll write.
You can wave goodbye to some girls and it doesn’t matter if they write or not. They’re not all as beautiful as Dawn. They don’t make you bite your nails half as much as Dawn does.
Leave us if you must, darling, but please write. Otherwise we’ll fall into a saucepan of hot cocoa.
We have our moments when it's not all light and joy, you know. We too have to clean the car and fill up cracks in the ceiling. We too are sitting on the bomb. Ah, poor old people of the seventies, wondering if they'll live to be ninety.
At such moments, we think about the scintillating conversational gambits of BRIGITTE JELINEK, who has the most entertaining way of starting a really cracking argument about the lost tribes of Asia. We never knew any of them ever got lost.
Anyway, in moments of gloom Brigitte couldn't do more for us than invite us over so that we could become intensely involved in a discussion on who actually shot the arrow which laid poor old Harold low at Hastings.
There's nothing so enlivening as a fluent chat with someone as delightful as Miss Jelinek.
